#pets onboard

[dailyaeroflot]

Vận chuyển thú cưng trên chuyến bay Aeroflot

Aeroflot cung cấp dịch vụ vận chuyển thú cưng nhằm đáp ứng nhu cầu của hành khách, nhưng yêu cầu tuân thủ các quy định nghiêm ngặt để đảm bảo an toàn và thoải mái cho cả thú cưng và hành khách. Dưới đây là các quy định quan trọng:

1. Các loại thú cưng được chấp nhận

Aeroflot cho phép vận chuyển các loài thú cưng sau:

Chó, mèo: Loại hình phổ biến nhất, có thể mang theo trong khoang hành khách hoặc ký gửi.

Chim nhỏ: Được phép vận chuyển trong khoang hành khách với điều kiện lồng vận chuyển phù hợp.

2. Hình thức vận chuyển

Aeroflot cung cấp hai lựa chọn vận chuyển thú cưng:

a. Trong khoang hành khách (Cabin)

Điều kiện: Thú cưng nhỏ gọn (cân nặng cả lồng không vượt quá 8kg) và lồng vận chuyển có kích thước tối đa 44 x 30 x 26 cm.

Lồng vận chuyển:

Phải kín, không rò rỉ.

Đủ rộng để thú cưng có thể đứng, nằm, và xoay người thoải mái.

Hành khách: Chỉ được phép mang 1 lồng vận chuyển trong cabin, đặt dưới ghế trước.

b. Ký gửi (Cargo)

Điều kiện: Áp dụng cho thú cưng có kích thước lớn (cân nặng cả lồng từ 8kg đến 50kg) hoặc vượt quá giới hạn vận chuyển trong cabin.

Lồng vận chuyển:

Đáp ứng tiêu chuẩn của IATA (Hiệp hội Vận tải Hàng không Quốc tế).

Lồng phải chắc chắn, thông thoáng, và đủ lớn để thú cưng cảm thấy thoải mái.

3. Quy trình đặt dịch vụ vận chuyển thú cưng

a. Thông báo trước với hãng

Hành khách cần thông báo và đăng ký dịch vụ vận chuyển thú cưng ít nhất 48 giờ trước giờ khởi hành.

Liên hệ qua tổng đài hoặc văn phòng Aeroflot để được hướng dẫn chi tiết.

b. Chuẩn bị giấy tờ

Giấy chứng nhận sức khỏe thú cưng: Do bác sĩ thú y cấp, có giá trị trong vòng 10 ngày trước chuyến bay.

Hộ chiếu thú cưng: Ghi rõ thông tin về tiêm chủng (bao gồm vắc-xin dại).

Giấy phép xuất/nhập cảnh: Nếu cần thiết cho các chuyến bay quốc tế.

[thebroccolination]

In workshops, Waa told Krist and Gawin to think of Kawi as a cat and Pisaeng as the cat's human, and what ensued onscreen is why Waasuthep Ketpetch is a hero and deserves ten thousand awards for Be My Favorite.

[sysig]

Having fun, more and more! (Patreon)

[befuddled-calico-whump]

i just found out about this "whump" thing recently and i can't tell if it's a softcore kink? or just "we like torturing sketchbook boys platonically." bc if it's the latter I'm gonna start using this tag

your work is in good taste, at least, i hope that's not an exception to the community! any idea where the name comes from?

Welcome aboard, hope it's not too intimidating 😂

Whether it relates to kink or not depends on the person, but a good deal of the community are very much the latter (great description for it skfjfj)

Whump covers a pretty broad spectrum really, you can have anything from "character has a fever and is being taken care of by their friends" to "extreme torture and recovery" to "emotional distress surrounding one bad event" and beyond. "Whump" is essentially a more focused hurt/comfort, and the degree of the hurt and comfort involved varies a lot depending on the story and person

Most people tag the content or have a warning before the story, so you'll usually know what you're getting yourself into. Tags/warnings that cover more extreme topics include "vivisection", "torture", or "gore" for the more gruesome physical aspects, and "dubcon", "noncon" and variations on those for stories that may include sexual assault, so if you're browsing the whump tag and would like to avoid that type of content, those are some tags you can block :)

Most authors/artists will also tag for the genre, so if you're looking for something specific, you can try tags like "fantasy whump", "pirate whump", "spy whump", "superhero whump", etc. Fandom whump is popular as well, so if you're looking for a specific existing character, searching "*character name* whump" may get you sone fics or art.

I'm glad you enjoyed some of my work :D If you're looking for more whump writing/art, I can recommend a few blogs:

@i-can-even-burn-salad writes fantasy whump, usually character-driven with a decent amount of plot. She has some gorier descriptions, but very fun characters

@redwingedwhump has written both fantasy and soft sci-fi/speculative fiction. A lot of the fantasy is set in a world inspired by dungeons and dragons so there's some fun magic and dynamics

@demondamage has art, comics, and writing centered on angels and demons. There's a big focus on the lab/medical setting and experiments

@whumpwillow has a hero/villain story that focuses on the recovery of the heroes' enemy, and a story about a demon who was accidentally rescued by a witch

And of course, there's so many more great whump creators out there. (This got a little long, hope you don't mind 😅)

To answer the last question, I'm not entirely sure, but I think it originated in the Stargate fandom. Either just a slang term, or referring to the noise a specific character made when falling/getting hit lol

Once again, welcome!

[luckydicekirby]

holden after naomi's day of going out of like three different airlocks including one without a suit: okay, i understand now why you hated it all those times i self-sacrificed my way into getting irradiated

[quietwingsinthesky]

(Fobwatch anon) you take AS MUCH liberty as you want !! No one else sees this vision. Can you believe that

i really can’t, it’s brilliant. it’s exactly the kind of fun mindfuckery that i love to play with <3 i have Ideas. i have angst brewing. sexy angst.

[elongated-twink]

I think being autistic does actually make me inherently better at animal handling because I, too, have been yelled at for growling and biting when everyone ignored my previous warnings and didn’t set clear boundaries

[failedgrailknight]

There really is something about cats in space, the perfect onboard pet

[awkward-teabag]

It may not even be that they're cynical or anything, just that they're overworked, underpaid, and expected to keep a certain output no matter how many co-workers get fired. That or there's a "content pivot" which means much of what they review are things they have little to no interest in and may actively dislike.

It's particularly bad with professional video game reviews given all the firings, the sheer breadth of video games in terms of content and gameplay, and how it can take a dozen or more hours to form the framework for a proper review.

It's hard to do that if you're the only one doing reviews now and expected to put 1-2 reviews out a week... of brand new games so you don't even have a backlog to pull from.

(There's also a massive issue where publishers will blacklist a company if a review isn't glowing enough and fans who can get vitriolic and violent if a game gets a 7/10 or lower.)

It's hard to not get jaded when you're pressured to do things you don't enjoy and doing the work of several people while also having to deal with the fallout if you phrase things "wrong" or don't outright lie to keep your sanity, safety, or because you were told to do so.

But it applies to reviews in other industries, too. What may be a negative for one person may be fine (or a positive) to someone else. They're not wrong for pointing it out, though, and just because something is a review doesn't mean you can turn off your critical thinking.

And please read multiple reviews to get a better understanding of something rather than reading one review and taking it as gospel. One person complaining about something may just be it wasn't for them or they were having a bad day, if multiple people complain about the same thing, it may be a sign of a larger issue.

And by the gods, a stranger pointing out a negative or under-developed part of something you like in a review is not a personal attack against you.

Sometimes you encounter negative critique that you disagree with where you have to recognize that nothing the critic said was technically wrong, but they just have a far more cynical and low-patience lens through which they are reviewing the work that highlights all flaws and prevents them from experiencing the more lighthearted joy in the little things about a piece of media that do work really well.

Unfortunately, professional reviewers are particularly prone to this as they are forced to mechanically grind through every new major release in their medium to get paid, regardless of whether it's their type of thing or if they have any patience for its genre expectations or particular approach, and are often primed to have a bad time with anything that can't push past that hump by being an unexpectedly moving piece of art. Which arguably makes them some of the worst people to qualitatively review the experience of engaging with a piece of media for entertainment, but there you are. The system might be flawed somewhat.

[milkyhoneybee]

You know how some offices have a dog or other pet to help keep workers calm and happy? I want to be an office hucow. I'd have a nice little inside barn set up where people could take a break and come and brush me or give me scritches/pat me, feed me things, or they could take me outside to watch me gambol about in the sun before their next meeting

Cows are, after all, very cute and friendly, and they make friends and love to play!

Of course, they also love to lick things, whether that's a sweet treat or something saltier (or more umami), pulling up a skirt or opening trousers to let me get my dextrous, curious tongue on whatever they have for me, lowing and mooing excitedly whenever I get a treat

And, obviously, I need to be milked regularly. My udders would be kept plump and drained through the day to get me making more and more milk (on top of the supplements and medicine they give me to keep my production at max rate), and every time I hit a new growth milestone for them, there would be a little team celebration

They attach me to a milking machine mostly, while I kneel and chew on oats or watch them in the office, occasionally shaking my head so the bell around my neck clangs and my big floppy ears flick around, my tail twitching. Sometimes though, people want to drink from my teats directly or they'll get a stool and milk me themselves-- it's actually considered part of people's onboarding process, learning how to milk me so I don't get too full since that's painful for me, and as cute as it is to see me leaking and mooing for release, it makes it more difficult for the cleaners, plus it's bad for my health. Plus, my milk is super good for everyone else to drink

As long as people clean up after themselves, they're allowed to fuck me whenever they want, especially when I go into heat. Sometimes they need to put me on a special breeding rig to keep me from interrupting calls and meetings when I'm too loud, a fat dildo plunging into my cow cunt with a ring gag or dildo gag in my mouth depending on how quiet they need me

People are always surprised at how much they can fit inside my pussy, but it still feels hot at wet and so good to fuck, even after I'm stretched out, though sometimes they might need to spank my rear to get me to tighten back up after a heavy use or stretching session

I'd be such a happy office cow, and all the workers in my company would know how much I loved them and wanted them to enjoy their jobs

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright Pt 20

Starscream x Reader-care

• There it is in the back of his processor on repeat, that spark wrenching cry. You’d called him Star, not Starscream and there’d been real fear in your voice. But worst of all? You’d tried to comfort him after he’d nearly crushed you by accident in his servos. He can’t get that cry of frightened pain out of his head and it drags him places he’s doesn’t want to go. Of his servos involuntarily clenching, the feel of soft flesh and tiny bones giving. He can imagine it all too well. What he might have done without even meaning to.

• Not realizing until it’s too late. It’d been too close a thing. And it’s with him all rotation, that nagging what if twisting with the rest of the guilt and uncertainty. Like the fact that he wonders if you’re happy with him. You never complain aside from that one angry outburst, but you must resent being a prisoner. Pit, he’s not even sure if he’s doing a good job taking care of you. It’s not like he knows anything about humans at all. Maybe it’s time to learn.

• Laying flat on your back staring up at the ceiling, you try to figure out what exactly is wrong with you. Because you’ve sprinted past Stockholm’s straight into a weird and probably very toxic codependence. Groaning, you rake your fingers through your hair, stopping when you get snagged on tangles, because lack of bathing isn’t fantastic. But you’d been too scared of asking the giant robot who brought you a litter box for a toilet about a bath. Who knew how he’d interpret that request? Drop you in the nearest body of water? Try to use chemicals that while fine for him melts your flesh away? Nope. Even if you can smell yourself and you hate it.

• You’re not sure how many hours you lay there feeling sorry for yourself before the door slides open and there’s Starscream. Frowning. That frown slides into a scowl when he spots you and you sit up, skin prickling. Trying to figure out what you might have done to annoy him and coming up empty. His expression is almost thunderous as he scoops you up cupped between his palms and carries you out of his quarters. You peek up through his fingers as he walks, but have no idea where you’re going. Or what you did wrong.

• You squirm in his cupped hands, your own little fingers brushing against him. But you’re silent. Trusting him without question. The almost sweltering heat of the wash racks hits him as soon as he steps inside, the tension in his wings easing as he surveys the big space. Empty. He moves into a far corner tucked into an alcove, counting on his wingspan to disguise what he’s doing as he uncovers you. Immediately, your neck cranes to look around in open interest, grabbing his thumb to carefully stand in his palm. “Where are we?”

• Heat. Glorious heat and…. Humidity? Inhaling, you look up. That almost looks like a shower head. A tremor of excitement lifts through you even as you wonder if maybe he’d just gotten tired of his pet stinking. Well, you guess that answers the question of whether Cybertronians have a sense of smell or not. Even if it’s the most mortifying way possible to find out. Whatever his reasoning, you’re onboard if it means getting clean. Up until he carefully plucks at the hem of your shirt and you reflexively swat at that big servo without thinking.

• Venting in a low huff as you lift your chin at him in defiance, he runs that servo over your head affectionately. Those nasty coverings are coming off, though. Even if you’re apparently very reluctant to part with them. “I’ll find you something else,” he says, trying to figure out how to remove them from your little frame. A job made more difficult by the way you struggle, face reddening.

• Absolutely not. Sure, he’s a giant robot and probably couldn’t care less if you run around naked or dressed, but it matters to you. It’s also a fight you quickly realize you can’t win as he tugs at a sleeve and your wriggling to get away pops the seam. And yes, these are your only clothes and they smell, have blood on them from the wreck, and are getting threadbare, but they’re yours. And you don’t want to be naked in giant robot land. “I can bathe with them on,” you insist, hating how desperate the words are.

• Why so much fuss over coverings? Must be a human thing. Finally, you give up with an adorably pitiful growl, aggressively swatting his servos until he pulls back. Waiting. Refusing to look at him, you begin stripping layers off. Ah. Somehow you seem even smaller and more helpless without those flimsy coverings, your arms wrapped around yourself to try and hide yourself from him. Embarrassed he supposes as he triggers the water and watches you jerk in surprise, before sullenly relaxing, turning in an awkward shuffle so your back is to him. Your form- it’s almost like the protoarmor underneath a Cybertronian’s plating. Organic, but made curiously like a Cybertronian in shape. Shooting him a grouchy look over your shoulder, you reach up to work tangles from your hair.

• “Could you at least not stare at me?” You mutter, because he is. You can feel it. Probably with the same disgusted fascination you’d give a shaved cat. There’s no soap, so you scrub at your skin with your hands until it’s red, ignoring the giant alien voyeur. Up until the light touch of a servo nudging your hand away from your arm startles you. He’s frowning at your reddened skin in disapproval. “Soap? Cleanser?” You hazard. Preferably something not flesh melting. And he vents loudly, warm air washing over you to make you freeze. Exasperated with you if his expression is any indication.

Previous Next

[captain-ultimat-doggo]

Katie was having a panic attack in the walls of a foreign space ship. She was screwed.

She had been looking for a new vessel, yes. Her mentors, the older humans who had taken her in to show her what it was really like living the roaming lifestyle of a Ship rat, or Gremlin, or Brownie, or whatever nickname was popping up now, had been amazing. but now that she knew the ropes- or cables, she supposed, to managing alien ships and crews, she had been dropped off in a galactic station to find her own place. It had been going great! she got supplies, did some odd jobs for the local human village under the pet shop, and had been scoping out the ships coming and going from port. She was solo, right now, though she had hoped to befriend a few other's in the pubs of the village and put together her own crew. Still, it wouldn't be many, so she was looking for a small ship.

Then the sirens went off, beeping the signal for "EVACUATE" with soul-shattering volume. Chaos erupted immediately. That siren only ever went off if there was a catastrophic meltdown being threatened, or something of equally devastating affect.

Now, most of the humans who lived in the village full time had evac strategies. Most families were friends with shopkeeps and had deals to hitch a ride in case of evacuation. Those who were passing through had ships to return to or ships already scouted to hop onto. So the evacuation was chaotic, but everyone was going to their main destinations. Except Katie.

Katie had leapt into action, doing her best to help the evacuation. that was the life of a brownie, be helpful to a fault. She ran against the crowd to the village and began helping carry luggage for the elderly, ensure families stayed together, and did her best to keep an eye out for anything incoming. The ground shook as massive aliens pounded overhead, running and not watching their steps at all. if any humans ventured out of the walls or the space between the flooring and the hull they would be dead in seconds. Boarding the ships was going to be a nightmare. But Katie didn't worry about that until she was escorting the last group to their ship. This required dashing up from the floor to the ships landing gear, which would be climbed access panels would be used to enter the ship. Katie was standing guard, watching for the vessel's captain- the leader of this group had sent her arm monitor the description and she had been flicking through the list of crewmembers. There were only two crewmates not confirmed to be onboard, one of them being the Captain.

She was pulled from her thoughts as someone shouted behind her. Katie whirled around and saw that the last person was climbing up and beckoning her. She started to dash forwards when the world lurched. Katie screamed as she was flung through the air.

Something had hit the space station. Something had HIT the space station! Aliens had fallen to the ground with the feeling of the impact, untethered containers slid across the floor, and Katie was flying through the air. She would be smashed to the ground in seconds, and then probably trampled or squashed. That is, if she hit the ground.

Twisting sharply in the air, Katie pointed her arm at something that was hovering off the ground, and completely stable. She fired a grapple and it latched on. She nearly threw up as her trajectory quickly changed for the second time in less than a minute and she was yanked towards the hovering object. She slammed into it ungracefully and hung there for a moment, completely winded.

When she got her bearings she realized what the object she was attached to was. It was a hoverchair of sorts, and she managed to climb down onto the anti-grav platform that was under the main seat. she see legs hanging down, but wasn't sure what species they belonged to yet. The chair was moving towards a ship, at least. Katie crouched and waited. Good brownies aren't seen until they want to be.

Once onboard the new spacecraft, Katie waited for the hoverchair to go close enough to the floor for her to jump or repel down. sadly, her chauffer was a fidgety fellow, and didn't seem fond of parking in place for long. She was able to launch the drone from it's port on her shoulder to get a better view of him, however. Human drones were about the size of Earth birds. which meant that they were usually less noticeable than flies, and pretty safe ways to survey the world. Turns out the owner of the chair was a Vax'allif with a couple deformities. He was missing his third leg; and both of his wings seemed mangled, Thus the awesome hoverchair. He quickly joined the ranks of a bunch of others, a Avatroxi, a Triglocerin, a Fremba, Katie had never seen such a diverse crew before. there didn't seem to be more than two or three of the same species aboard, which she frankly didn't realize could happen.

Eventually she got the opportunity to repel down and drop into a drainage grate into the subflooring, and from there into the walls of the ship. She maneuvered expertly through the wiring and got to know the layout, noting the water systems and places she would be able to tap for fresh water or attach a waste disposal unit. Basic housekeeping.

when she found a bunch of damaged wiring her heart sank. The ship was infested by VoidWasps. the damn things were twice her size and would feed off any energy source they could access. they also had pincers that could bite a newfoundland in half and their colonies took either alien exterminators or an experienced team of Brownies to take down. She'd helped with a Voidwasp extermination before, of course, but right now she was Alone. Probably. there was no sign of humans anywhere on this ship so far, but the more she explored the more she realized how truly massive this ship was. It seemed to be a deep space research vessel, which meant that if it had fully fueled up then it might not stop at another station for half a cycle at least. These things were meant for deep space exploration, and housed their own communities. Usually including at least one human village. Katie pushed that thought aside.

Hours passed and eventually Katie mapped out a few nest locations, a way into the kitchen stores, and places to get personal supplies. she also had repaired a ton of wiring and sprayed everything she touched liberally with Human-Grade Insect repellent. The repellent was built into human adhesives as well, and pretty much anything that had to do with wiring or engineering had a few bug-proofing precautions. She had also come face to face with about four wasps, which she had managed to shoot so full of plasma that they fried inside their carapaces. She really did not like bugs. Voidwasps especially. the damn things were invasive!

She had also finally pinged the ship, scanning human stations for any signal. She scanned again. and again. There was nothing. She was the only human aboard. Katie had been going through well rehearsed motions until now, but this was a problem. To tackle a vessel this size you would usually want like. thirty humans at minimum. and she was alone. A research vessel like this usually attracted thrill-seekers. Humans loved to adventure through space, research vessels were basically gremlin bait. This ship wasn't new, she could tell by the wiring. some of these parts had years of rust built up, and from the damage she was seeing the voidwasp infestation was massive, the colony probably numbering in the thousands. That stuff doesn't happen overnight. This ship was perfect Gremlin bait, yet no human had stepped aboard. That meant she was probably missing something. Usually she would've staked out the ship for a while before getting on. maybe there was some kind of red flag about it that would stop any humans from boarding? Maybe the wasps were worse than she thought and no human would go near such a large nest, even with numbers on their side?

Katie was having a panic attack in a foreign ship. She almost didn't hear the buzzing clicks behind her as a wasp closed in.

[filibusterfrog]

Is Monty a rescue?

yeah he is. im not rly onboard with birds being part of the pet trade cause theyre mostly too smart and too delicate with really specialized needs to be well taken care of by most owners, but the reality is that they are part of the pet trade so i thought id get a rescue and make sure he had as good a life as possible

[sea-lanterns]

Imagine with pirate!Beidou, Siren!Reader does initially bite and claw at first.

But then she recognizes Beidou (maybe feom a mix of appearance, smell, and something Beidou says about "returning the favor" that causes her brain to click), and she's suddenly gone from trying to bite a piece out of Beidou to nuzzling her and licking at the wounds she gave her while purring up a storm (...hmm, would sirens even purr?), other members of the Liyue crew can't help but notice that Siren!Reader seems to give their captain "special treatment", meanwhile she almost bite Pirate!Hu Tao's fingers off when she tries to touch her.

Cue everyone on the Liyue ship getting confused, because out of all the women onboard, they all expected Beidou to be the most bitten and hated by you, not knowing that you two had a past together 🥺

One brief smell of Beidou’s hand later…and your pupils go wide like saucers, immediately purring against her hand and licking it to show how much you’ve missed her. Ningguang probably chokes on her tea when she sees this, and Beidou is all smug and bragging as she pulls you over her lap so you could lick her fingers more.

“She likes me.” Is all Beidou needs to say to taunt Ningguang, and the poor woman nearly breaks the teacup under her grip because she’s been trying to get close to you all this time. 😭😭

It’ll take a bit of time for the other girls to get closer to you without you biting their hand off, but Beidou is the only exception for now. Only she can pick you up or pet you <3

[marlynnofmany]

One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[asumofwords]

Treat - Ettore x Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Somnophillia, rape, non-con, slight dub-con, masturbation, creepiness, sedation, assault, drugs, induced vomiting, blood, spitting, cum play, violence, degradation.

Pairings: Dark!Ettore x Reader  (It’s Ettore… come on)

Synopsis: The cold of space had nothing on the cool glare of Ettore, another inmate on the spacecraft you were sentenced to life on. At the mercy of the Doctor onboard, Dibs, all are a part of fertility experiments and used as test subjects. Said Doctor has increased your sedation dosage as part of the trials, what will happen when suspicions arise for the unusual things happening to your body?

Word Count: 6.1k

Notes: @targaryenrealnessdarling and @ewanmitchellcrumbs inspired this hedonistic fucking abomination by creating an obsession with a man I shouldn’t even like. This is DD:DNE territory, so you have been warned. I blame you both for making me so fucking feral for this man. Enjoy ;) <3

It was cold.

It’s not supposed to be cold, but it was. 

There was no way to keep out the chill of outer space. No way to keep the sub zero chill outside from seeping into metal ship you drifted in. No way to keep the unnatural of being in space away from your bones.

Your senses. 

There was heating, and it was warm enough inside for you to wear shorts and a shirt, some mandated clothing given to you, but even then, the artificial warmth couldn’t keep the chill from seeping into the walls or floors.

Or perhaps it was the chill of being watched. 

But you were always being watched, prisoner and a body for human experimental trials, or ‘guinea pigs’ as Boyse says, another inmate who hates being there just as much as you. She was sweet enough, but you kept her, like everyone else, at an arms length. 

Being put on the floating jail in space was a combination of a shit routine and being stuck with other not so great people. When you first arrived, you had kept to yourself, quiet, head down, methodical. You didn’t want trouble, you just wanted peace. And anything was better than the Super Max they had you in before back on Earth. 

So you were good.

Took your meds when told, took showers when commanded, ate and slept on the clock like a well trained pet. And sometimes, if you were feeling particularly inclined, which was more often than not, you found yourself in The Box. A crude space for you to go in and get out your ‘urges’.

'Fraternising' with the others was a big no no, but really, what were they going to do? Shoot you out the hull? You doubted it, and if you were honest, you didn’t care much either way.

You were going to die on this ship, lost in the same fucking routine for the rest of your days if you didn’t all go absolutely bat shit insane and cannibalise each other, which was a real fear Monte had whispered to you once.

Not much of a talker that one. 

But Ettore was worse. 

He barely even spoke a word. He just watched. 

Listened. 

Like he was sizing everyone up, writing invisible notes in his mind of who was who, and what was what. As though he was collecting intel from everyone like a secret government plant, or as though he was waiting to sell secrets, not that there really were any, all of you were there for crimes that warranted a life sentence. 

Death sentence in your case. 

And the way Ettore watched you, watched Boyse, or any of the other women on board, gave you an inkling as to what he may have done to deserve being locked up with the rest of you. 

But it didn’t stop you from being intrigued, nor casting an extra glance here or there to watch him. Pine over him even, bent over, shirtless scrubbing the floor, but what else were you to do? You hadn't been touched in months, maybe years, you couldn't tell how long it had been with no natural rise or set of the sun, and he wasn't bad on the eyes. Leaning against the wall of the hull, waiting for whoever it was in The Box to finish.

Because thats where he always was. 

The Box. 

You would say it bordered on slightly neurotic. Obsessive. Insatiable.

And it was the moments before he went in that really rivalled the chill of space.

His pale blue eyes would always find you.

Always.

And although it sent shivers down your spine in fear and disgust, it also settled a warmth within you too. 

It was hard. 

Not being able to touch anyone. 

Being surrounded by people, all day, all night, and not once having a chance to feel them. Hold them. Be with them. You had thought that perhaps Dibs would have at least let same sex interactions slide because there was no possible way for conception, but it was as if the bitch was edging herself. Or had some sick fetish of having everyone in a fucking cube strung out to shit in space. 

Not the smartest of moves to whoever gave this experiment the go ahead, but you had to give them props for their misplaced faith.

You padded down the hall, making your way to the Doctors office, ready to collect your meds; sleeping pills which knocked you flat on your ass about half an hour after ingesting them, and then go to bed.

You saw the door up ahead and sighed, it was not that you didn’t want to sleep, you just hated the idea of constantly being pumped with this shit.

Surely it wasn’t good for your body?

But then again, being in space and stuck where you were with no choice to go outside in fresh air, noting that there wasn’t any air outside the craft, wasn’t good for you either. 

Unnatural.

But it was all unnatural.

And in some ways, better than death row.

Sometimes.

Just as you moved to round the door, Ettore’s large body ducked beneath the frame, strolling right past you. His eyes flicked over your body quickly, predatorily, lashes blinking softly as he brushed past you and went on his way back to his cell. 

There was that cold again. 

It surrounded him like a wraith.

You slid into the room, Dibs barely sparing you a glance as you stood behind her, her long fingers fucking about on the table as she took her time to give you the meds you got from her at the same time, every fucking day. You thought that perhaps she may be a little more organised since all she did was sit around on her ass and be a prat.

But she wasn’t, and you waited, standing beside her as she swivelled in her stupid little chair to face you.

You had always had a pretty good read on people. Ever since you were young, you could spot the bad ones from the good, but it never really kept you away from the bad. Your ex's more bad than they were good.

It excited you, if you were going to be honest.

The rush of adrenaline, feeling of fear as your fight or flight would kick in when you looked at someone and just knew they had a more sinister part of them simmering beneath the surface.

And the moment you had spotted Ettore on the ship, being strapped in beside him, the alarm bells had rung in your head, blaring red DANGER behind your eyes. And you had felt the same fluttering in your chest as you felt his eyes on you the whole time.

But Dibs?

She was different.

There was something more malevolent than what meets the eye. Something that hid behind her dark gaze. And as you stood inside the make shift infirmary, doctors notes spread out on her table, shut curtains behind you, you felt as though perhaps you would have been safer stuck inside The Box with Ettore.

Dibs held out a small plastic cup to you, two pills inside.

Usually, it held one.

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at her.

"Changed dosage.” Was the only thing she offered you.

“Why?”

The Doctor blinked up at you with no answer, silence falling over you. You asked again, and were met with the same blank stare. And so you took the cup begrudgingly, snatching it from her hand and throwing the two little pills into the back of your mouth to dry swallow them. You could feel them catch on the back of your throat, sitting heavily like a lump, and so you swallowed once more to get them down. 

Dibs gave you a sterile smile, and turned away back to her notes, scribbling. 

You stomped away, walking back down the corridor to go to your cell, feeling the acidic, briny feeling on the back of your tongue.

No matter how many nights you had swallowed those things, it always made a bad taste settle in the back of your mouth, and a hollowness in your stomach.

When you had first arrived on the ship, you struggled to fall to sleep knowing that you were drifting in space, and couldn't get off even if you wanted, with the low hum of the ship in a constant drone keeping you alert, and so Dibs had given you sedatives to help you drift off.

There was already sedatives in the water Dibs gave you all, but the other girls in your cell followed suit soon enough, asking for the little pill so that they could sleep undisturbed in the night.

The closer you go to your room, the more your mind felt clouded, as though a thick layer of fog had crossed it, obscuring your thoughts and making each one feel as though they had been dipped inside a vat of molasses.

Even your limbs felt heavy, and so you hurried your uneven pace to your cell block, stumbling against a wall where you flopped down onto the bed, too exhausted to pull yourself beneath the sheets as the room around you spun. 

You could feel and hear the others making their way to their bunks after you, but your eyelids grew heavy, and soon enough, you were out like a light. As though a switch had been flicked by the manicured nails of Dibs.

There were no dreams to be had, not even an awareness of sleep, just a deep, black abyss that swallowed you whole and completely, with neither complaint nor fight from your limbs. 

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was how tired you still were, as though the medication still lingered in your periphery like dark little tendrils that rubbed smooth and soothing hands upon your mind, trying to lure you back.

But the day had to move on, and you were unstrapped from your bed, limbs feeling entirely too heavy to lift as you hauled yourself out. You didn't understand the need for the restraints, especially since you would be sedated and unable to move anyway, but you supposed they were there to keep you put in case you did.

Behavioural issues and that.

Who knows what the others had done to warrant a death row sentence. Yours certainly wasn't a light one.

The moment your feet hit the ground, your stomach lurched. Pain rippling up through your stomach. 

What the hell?

You rubbed your face blearily and sighed, chalking it up to your period making an appearance early this month, or perhaps Dibs' experiments had finally stuck, or were melting your insides by the feel of it.

Dibs was going to have a field day with you, you knew it. You would have your legs pried open by stirrups and have her shove a million and one swabs inside of you like she did every month.

Like clockwork.

Well, cycle really.

You hated it.

Another thing to add to the misery of it all; being prodded by a stone faced bitch who only showed kindness to the men on board. Couldn't even get off to the way she shoved those cotton swabs or fingers inside you, fishing around as if she was going through a pocket for spare change.

Except this pain was sharp, and stung, but was dulled by whatever lingering sleeping pill was dragging your body down. You would have to tell the eager Doctor to be more gentle about turkey basting you with whoever's cum she picked from her cups.

Boyse had told you once she could have sworn she saw Dibs dipping her fingers into the 'donation' cups to taste test each one. You had laughed so hard you cried, and Monte had eyed you from across the canteen.

You yawned and stretched, ignoring the ache and hit the showers with the others, beginning your day of chores.

Today you were cleaning, something you actually didn’t mind. It was methodical, time consuming, and there was a clear outcome at the end that you enjoyed. 

Cloth and cleaner in hand, you polished handles and doors and any surface that you could reach, wiping down the metal and other surfaces to sterilise them.

Boyse was on floor duty that day, and so she cleaned alongside you quietly, the occasional whisper or conversation had as you moved. But you truly struggled to hold one, your mind still muddled from the lurch of the changed dose.

You would need to speak about lowering said dosage back to normal with Dibs. This was like trying to think and exist when shitfaced at the pub.

God you missed the pub.

It was the little things you missed most. Things that you had taken for granted, like wind, or rain, or bugs. You missed the itch of being bitten. How fucked was that? Missing mosquitoes? Dibs needed to check your head rather than your fertility.

And so the day ended, and every surface in one wing of the ship was spotless thanks to yours and Boyse’s work. You ate alongside the others quietly and couldn’t help but feel that chill again, covering you in an icy blanket.

Lifting your head, you spotted Ettore watching you. 

Still.

Like those nature documentaries you used to watch, when the lions would be hidden in the tall grass, still as a rock, watching and waiting to pounce on the galloping gazelle.

Your mouth felt dry, and the hunger you had felt left, pain winding its way inside of you as you stood slowly, careful to not set anyone off, especially him, and moved to clear your plate to go to Dr. Dibs.

You were more eager to get away from Ettore’s piercing gaze than anything, feeling like a game of cat and mouse, waiting to turn your head and see him chasing after you down the halls. It set your skin alight.

But he didn't.

Your journey to speak to the doctor about your dosage was a waste. Dibs didn’t budge, and in your hand ,the small pill tub was dropped with two inside.

You watched her intently, mouth parted to argue.

“You done yet?” Ettore’s voice swallowed the artificial air in the room. 

Your head snapped to the door, watching as he slowly walked in, like a predator, looking at you intently. You blinked up at him, his lean form towering over you in the sterile cream room. You could smell the soft scent of generic soap you all used and the musky undertones of him beneath.

“I want my treat.” He spoke again, hand held out to Dibs, who placed a pill in his palm, no cup holding it. Simply placed into his palm with her fingers, as though there was an element of familiarity between the two. 

The cold of his gaze contrasted the warmth of his body as it loomed over you.

Dibs spun on her chair to look at you through her lashes, eyes dropping pointedly to the pills still un-swallowed in your cup, “Take them.”

You threw the pills into the back of your throat, locking eyes with Ettore as you dry swallowed them, holding back the grimace as they slid down the back of your throat roughly. Ettore followed, smacking his palm over his mouth as he swallowed his own, then turning his head to open his mouth in show to Dibs, who gave him a soft smile. 

“Smashing. Thank you.” He spoke down to her, accent thick on his tongue. His eyes flicked over you once more before he sauntered out the room.

Your feet felt stuck on the linoleum flooring until Dibs cleared her throat at you, “Go back to your cell.”

Taking her command, you left, winding down the corridor, falling onto your bed again and succumbing to the heavy sleep. 

This went on for days, the same dosage, the same medicated sedation, and the same groggy rising with a continued ache that never seemed to leave your core. You waited for the blood to come, but there was only the occasional bit of spotting. 

Perhaps a lighter cycle this month.

It wasn’t until that morning, when you went to the showers did you notice something was not right. Something that justified the inkling in the back of your mind that something was afoot with the pain that wracked your body.

That the pain wasn’t due to your monthly cycle, and something far more sinister instead.

Washing down with soap, the others in their cubicles beside you, your eyes were drawn to colour that should not be on the skin. Dark blotches of purples and blue, streaked with pinks across your hips and inner thighs. Your fingers pressed into them, hissing as pain shot up through you. But the pain wasn’t what made you blanch. It was the shape of them. And how your fingers fit perfectly within the large blooms of colour. 

Fingerprints. 

More specifically, finger marks, littered across your body. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked at them, horror and sickness skyrocketing inside of you. Bile rose in your throat, and the urge to scrub your skin raw became an immediate compulsion, your nails scratching at the bruises roughly. 

Dressing rapidly, you raced to the Doctors office, shoes not even on as your feet slapped on the floor loudly as you made your way down. But of course, whatever high power above controlled the fate that surrounded you had other plans for you, and your body collided with a body of steel. 

You neck craned up, meeting the icy glare of Ettore.

“Watch it.” He sneered down at you, hands at his sides in fists.

You didn’t know what to do but blink at him, and it was all you did, looking up at the man who set your skin alight, a blush creeping along your cheeks and fear shimmering down your spine.

“You gonna move?” He asked again, lips pulled into a sharp frown.

You took a step back, then another, and another, Ettore’s eyes grazing over your body, settling on your chest as it heaved, wet patches of your shirt sticking to your skin.

You swallowed thickly.

“Quiet one, huh.” Ettore mused, eyes becoming half hooded as he watched you, “They always scream the loudest.”

You sneered, watching as Ettore walked towards you, leaning his head down just a bit as he whispered to you, “I’ll be in The Box.” Before he was on his way, body swaying with his walk. 

Your heart leaped through your chest as you watched him.

-

“Somethings wrong.” You sat on the doctors bed, legs in stirrups as Dibs looked at you in annoyance, clinical eyes roving your body as you pulled your shorts high on your hips to display the bruises on your thighs. 

Dibs didn’t even blink at them, just glanced at them shortly before writing in her notes.

“Something is-“

“-Vitamin D deficiency, Iron deficiency.”

“Fuck you. It looks li-“

“Take these.” 

Her hand was held out to you, a small circular brown pill and an oblong pink one sat inside a medical cup. You blinked at her hand as she held them out to you.

“I don’t fucking-“

“-Take them. Or you will be marked as refusing treatment.”

Snatching the cup from her palm, your own nails scratching her hand, you threw them back into your mouth, staring at her angrily as you swallowed them.

“Good girl.” Dr. Dibs spun in her chair away from you and back to her desk, already looking through her notes in dismissal. 

You swung your legs out of the stirrups and sat on the edge of the bed looking at her, staring daggers into the back of her head. 

It could be so easy. 

Who would know it was you?

You could just-

“Are you refusing to leave now too? Very naughty of you. Monte will have to come deal with this behaviour, little birdy.” Came her slimy voice.

"Fuck you."

Grunting, you hopped off the bed and stormed out the room, muttering beneath your breath in agitation and anger as it poured out of you. 

"Fucking bitch."

Something was wrong, and you knew it. 

Fucking useless cunt.

You went back to your chores, but found that you could scarcely concentrate with the anger that seemed to mount within.

You needed a release, and fast. 

The Box was made for just such thing, and so you dropped the clippers in your palm in the garden and made your way to your destination. The anticipation of going into The Box made way for excitement over the anger, but all in all, it still rippled through you in waves.

All you needed was a good and rough fuck.

Get the anger out.

Your ex was always a good source of inspiration when inside The Box. The way his hips would snap into yours brutally, his teeth in your flesh, hands slapping, pinching.

Choking.

The Box would calm you down.

Your legs carried you down the ladder before you jumped down the last few impatiently, the light in this part of the ship far darker than the rest. You walked forward, looking at the closed door before feeling ice wash over you.

Who else would be waiting outside of it but Ettore.

His cool eyes flicked to yours as your steps slowed, looking to him and then the closed door. His lips pursed together into a pout and one corner pulled down into a smirk. 

Shit eating bastard.

He leant back against the steel wall of the hull, head turned to look down at you as you leant beside him. Too frustrated to turn back, and not willing to let him scare you out of a reprieve that you needed. 

“Gonna be waiting a while.” Ettore hummed, suggestive grin on his lips before he swiped a tongue against the front of his teeth noisily.

You looked him up and down, no mood for his attitude or creeping glares, “You look like it’d be quick.” You purred.

Ettore’s nostrils flared and his lips pulled down into a sneer, he pushed off of the wall, looking down at you as he adjusted his jaw, the muscles clenching tightly, blue eyes narrowed. 

Your head connected with the metal behind you as he jerked you back into it roughly, forearm pressed against the top of your chest. Pain bloomed in the back of your skull, but that didn’t stop the small mewl that escaped from your lips.

Ettore’s eyes widened before they narrowed, face looming in closer to you as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly, heat blooming in your stomach. 

The door to The Box opened and Boyse stepped out, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. 

Ettore stepped back dropping his arm to his side as he spun around and entered, facing you as the doors began to close, his eyes roaming down your body slowly as he sucked his tongue. 

A shiver rolled through you.

Boyse watched you carefully, “You right?”

You cleared your throat, feeling your heart beat like a drum in your chest, “Yea, I’m alright. Asshole.”

Boyse nodded and left, and you waited for your turn, waiting for the door to open again, but it didn’t. 

The moments flew by and it almost felt as if he was taking his time because of your comment. Punishing you.

Proving a point.

Fucking cunt. 

You huffed and pushed away from the wall, making your way back to work again, knowing that dinner would be soon, and then the deep and dreamless sleep once more. 

Dinner was quick, and in no time you were walking down to collect your sedatives from the Doctor who made your skin crawl almost as badly as Ettore. Your mood had not improved, and you would say that the want that simmered inside of you made it even worse now that it had gone unattended.

When you entered the infirmary, Ettore was already there, talking quietly with Dibs who was seated, craning her neck up to look at him with a soft smile on her lips.

Fucking pick-me.

Upon hearing your arrival, both turned to face you, and Ettore instinctually held out his hand, a pill placed in its palm, before it put it in his mouth, his eyes on you, narrowed and almost angry. But when he looked down at the doctor, a soft smirk wound its way on his lips and he whispered a small ‘thank you’ to her, brushing past you with a sniff on his way out.

You held out your palm in the same manner he had, eyes still on the door Ettore had walked out of, feeling the plastic of the small cup being placed in the centre. You looked down at it.

Two sedatives.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?" You grumbled, and tilted your head back, letting the two pills roll onto your tongue, Dibs eyes watching. 

But there was something about it. 

Something about her watching you like that, that made you shiver. 

“Show me.” She commanded and you swallowed both dryly, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue obscenely at her so that she could get a closer look.

The Doctor nodded and turned away, back to her notes. 

But fear scrambled in your throat.

You all but raced out of the office, making your way straight to the toilet, dropping to your knees in front of it as your instincts took over, shoving two fingers down your throat. You gagged quietly in the space, daring to not draw attention to what you were doing. 

You did it again, and the bile and bitter taste of stomach acid flooded your tongue. You bent over the rim gasping, looking down into the water to see if the pills were in the bowl with your dinner. 

You spotted one and collapsed down onto the floor feeling some sort of relief, though your stomach still turned, and bile coated your tongue. You sat there for a moment, feeling the cool of the bathroom floor on your thighs and hands before standing.

You couldn’t get caught. 

You flushed the toilet and brushed your teeth carefully, cupping water into your mouth to rinse the acidic taste that settled behind your teeth. And yet still, you were still wrought with nerves.

As you lay in your bed, bottom bunk opposite to Boyse, you stared up at the top one, the restraints strapping you down by your arms as the beginnings of sedated fatigue gnawed at your vision. 

So you had only gotten one pill out. 

No matter.

Better than both.

At least it calmed your heart, and you turned your head to look at Boyse who was already out like a light, the soft curve of her nose shadowed in the dim of the room.

You wondered what she was here for often, but never had the courage or want to learn. 

Some things are better left unsaid.

You tried to resist it, tried to fight the way your eyelashes sagged and your limbs fell heavier by the second, but in no time at all, you were sucked into the usual dreamless state that you had been in for god knows how long you had been on that goddamn ship.

-

It’s dark. 

So dark.

And warm. 

Soft pressing in the back of your mind, drawing you just below the surface of consciousness. 

Why was it so warm?

There was pressure. 

Pressure on top of you. 

Pressure inside of you.

A thing.

Or two.

Maybe three.

What?

The pressure turned to a dull ache. 

A pain.

Pleasure?

Why was it so warm?

It curled in your gut and you groaned, mind foggy, limbs of stone as you felt the weight of your body come back to you. Come back to the room. 

The bed.

Soft sheets.

Grunts.

Weight.

Warm. 

Pain in your thighs. Pain between them. Weight on top of you. 

Breaths in your ear that are not your own. 

Grunts.

Moans.

Hisses.

Eyelids feeling like lead as they fluttered, the sound around you louder, rustling, wet, clapping, breathing. 

The room spun on its axis, mind reeling as you were pulled from the depths of your sedated sleep, your body reacting to whatever was being done to it. 

It was hard.

Hard to stay awake.

You drifted again, bobbing beneath the surface only to rise back up again, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. Blurred vision making it hard to focus.

Heavy mind making it hard to comprehend.

Hard to see.

“Whas-“ You slurred, head being rocked backwards by movements, making the nausea that rose within stronger, barreling through you with a spearing sensation.

A loud grunt in your ear as the jolting of your body picked up. Something moving inside of you.

Atop you.

You could see movement above you, hair, a body.

A face.

Ettore.

You blinked, his sharp jawline coming into focus, comprehension wading through the thick fog of your mind as you continued to look up at him, mind reeling to figure out what was going on.

Eyes half lidded, lips pulled down into a sneer, Ettore rutted into you from above. 

“Wha-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, hand slapping over your lips as he fucked into you. 

Your eyes widened, pain blooming through you, strength dulled, senses foggy, but knowing. 

Knowing. 

You knew now.

Ettore’s length fucked into you roughly, the tip beating against your cervix painfully. The stretch stung as he drilled into you, splitting you apart on his cock. Each thrust was just as brutal as the other, the sound of his hips clapping against yours loud in the cell of the others sedated, still in their dreams.

Was this a dream?

It felt too real. 

You writhed beneath him sluggishly, trying to get out of his grip, breathing heavily through your nose as his hand stayed pressed against your mouth, small whimpers and grunts spilling into his palm as his cock bullied your walls repeatedly.

Ettore watched your face, lips pulling up into a smile as he gave a particularly harsh thrust, your eyes scrunching shut in pain as you yelped, sensing you had come fully to the surface of consciousness to feel the truth of his assault.

Pain pinged up you, your walls clamping down on him as your hips tried to angle away from him, restraints cutting into the skin of your wrists, legs too heavy to lift. Tugging at them for dear life as he watched you struggle from below. He laughed, deep in his chest before a groan fell from his swollen lips, eyes closing in pleasure with his mouth hung open.

You tried to scream beneath him palm, to try and wake the others, to call for help, for anything. But the hand at your mouth did not budge, and so the muffled sound of your cries fell on sedated ears. Tears prickled in your eyes from the pain as you tried to shake your head away from him, mouth opening. 

You bit down on his palm.

Hard.

Ettore cursed, flinching as he pulled his hand away from your face, fist reeling back before it connected painfully into the side of your mouth.

You could taste blood. Coppery on your tongue, and you didn’t know if it was his or yours. Probably a mixture of the two. But your bite did not deter him, and his thrusts only became crueler, your body jolting beneath him as you felt wet beneath your hips. 

How long had he been doing this?

How many times had he done this?

But the wet was not just from the man above you. 

It also came from you.

Small sparks of pleasure wound its way up through your gut as he rutted into you in fervent, animalistic thrusts. Each one a sharp grunt or hiss falling from his lips. Each one, his tip bullying the soft and sponge spot within you. Each thrust winding the coil within tighter and tighter.

Ettore slapped your cheek, a small cry falling from your lips as you looked up at him, tears running down your cheeks as you sobbed quietly. 

From the pain. 

From the shock.

From the pleasure.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He growled, “Fucking dirty bitch.”

Another sob, mouth opened to cry out. 

His lips pursed, and warmth sprayed across your face, the wet of his spit landing across cheeks and lips, hand coming to grab your jaw painfully as he squeezed, the joints protesting with pops as he continued, no doubt bruises to be seen in the morning. 

Your walls fluttered around him, each snap of his hips grazing your swollen clit sending euphoria racing up your spine.

It was all too much. 

“Look at you.” He sneered at you meanly, “Gonna cum on my cock aren’t you? Feel you tightening up. Fuck. So fucking disgusting. Asking for it. Always looking at me with those fucking eyes. Take it.”

It was a peel of words that continued to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his pace faltered. 

He was near his end, and you were too. 

With two hands, he wrapped them around your neck, leaning his weight down on it as he fucked into you, black spots blooming in your vision as he cut off both air and blood supply. You wheezed beneath him, thrashing against the restraints, hands in fists as they rubbed the skin raw.

You felt light, airy as you looked up at him, the lead of your limbs lifting with the lack of oxygen, the angle he fucked you in having changed, and each rut of his hips jabbed against your G-spot violently.

“Take it, you fucking cunt.” He growled, your eyes fluttering shut as you began to feel weightless, beginning to drift back to your sleep. A nice sleep. Comfortable one. Soft and warm and-

You came violently, a silent cry ripped from your throat, eyes shooting open as you looked up at the man who bit his bottom lip roughly, eyebrows knotted together as he fucked you through it. 

The hands left your throat, gasp sucked into your lungs as you writhed beneath him, his thrusts pulling painful pleasure from you as his hips stuttered, one hand clawing at your hip, the other tugging your head back by your hair, exposing your neck to him. 

Ettore came with a grunt, head dipping down to bite into the sensitive skin in the crux of your shoulder, teeth piercing the skin as you whimpered below him.

Hot ropes of his cum filled your walls, his thrusts stilling as you felt him throb within you, teeth still in your neck that he lapped at with his tongue, breathing hotly through his nose against the skin.

Another tear fell down your cheek as you lay beneath him, staring up at the cool, darkened grey of the ceiling. Pain and pleasure swirling around each other hotly in your core and gut, walls still fluttering around him from your own release. 

You swallowed dryly, throat hoarse from where he choked you and wriggled beneath him, stirring his rest as he grunted into your neck, finally releasing the skin from his teeth. Small incisions and blooming bruise beginning to take its spot there, a dribble of blood leaking from where a crooked tooth pinched flesh between another.

He huffed above you as the world spun, slowly pulling out of you. You whimpered and half whined, feeling sensitive. Stinging pain and pleasure winding its way around your entrance.

Too much.

Ettore sat back on his haunches, cock softening in front of him as he looked down at you, fully naked. Your eyes roamed his body, muscular and lean all in one, watching you with lust filled eyes and hatred. 

Another tear dripped down your cheek as his eyes roamed down your body, to the torn shorts he had ripped to the side, watching as his spend leaked out of you. His hand shot out, scooping fingers through your folds as you hissed, playing with his cum and smearing it into your folds and along your thighs. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, nausea turning painfully in your stomach as he moved to loom over you, looking down at your tear streaked cheeks and the blood on your split lip, bits of his saliva dried on your face from where he had spat on you.

His lips pulled into a smirk, sticky fingers coming to smear themselves on your cheek as he pulled your shorts back into place, adjusting you roughly beneath him.

“Wasn’t too quick for you I hope.” He mocked, giving your face a rough tap before he stood, pulling on his pants and shirt as he looked down at you, chest heaving as you cried quietly, adrenaline pumping through you.

His eyebrows lifted on his face, grinning once he was dressed, grabbing your face in his hand and shaking it as he cooed at you.

“Good girl.” Another tap.

He left without another word, leaving you strapped to your bed, body aching and bruised as his cum leaked out of you, pooling wetly into the crotch of your shorts. You could still feel him inside you, thrusting atop you, his breath fanned in your ears. 

You sucked in a steeling breath, shaking in the restraints, skin raw and bleeding in some places where you tugged too hard, pulled too violently as you shook beneath him, pleasure exploding within. 

You didn't drift back to sleep, no matter how hard you tried, the sedative had worn off and adrenaline kept you alert. 

You simply laid in your bunk, in your cell, surrounded by people who were none the wiser to your attack, sleeping soundly in their own restrained cots as your eyes stayed to the doorway, waiting for him to return. 

Knowing that he would.

And not minding it either.

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